Appealing to Our Better Angels
by Dropkicking Bullet Shells
Summary: They hadn't realized Daryl could ever actually be with someone until he broke down in his arms. Connor/Daryl


**A/N-** Writen for kinkmeme prompt.  
I'm probably going to take this down off my FF account in 24 hours. I haven't decided

**Plot- **They hadn't realized Daryl could ever actually be with someone until he broke down in his arms. Connor/Daryl

**Disclaimer-** I do not own The Walking Dead, or the plot really.

**Warnings-** Language and maleXmale

**Pairing-** Connor/Daryl

XxxX

"Pursue love..."  
unknown

XxxX

**Appealing to Our Better Angels-**

They all had just assumed that Daryl had always been alone. Other than Merle, which really wasn't much of a step up from 'alone', Daryl didn't seem to have or make connections. No one asked questions, no one thought other wise and no one would have guessed that what was happening before them was really... real.

The survivors had been traveling as a pack around the quarry. Their cars had broken down long ago. They truly were stranded. Some had suggested they just sent a few for gas, and Rick had figured that was as good idea as any, but when Shane and Glenn had gotten back from scouting they had been buzzing with excitement.

"We found another farm!" Glenn had said, his lips twitching up hopefully.

Shane knew better than to let anticipation get in the way of accomplishment. He kept his stoic gaze on anyone he looked his way and wrinkled his nose, "It's already occupied."

"But, the people there are nice!" Glenn added.

"But, we don't know that for sure." Shane commented negatively, "We only talked with them for a bit. I don't really trust them. A couple of the guys seem too smart for their own good."

"You talked with them?" Rick asked. He stood straight, back erect, posture perfect.

"We exchanged a few words." Shane nodded. Though his words were casual, his tone was sharp.

"Why don't you trust them?" Rick eyed his best friend. He always took into account what Shane felt on the subject, and Lori, too, but he wanted to do what was best for the group. He wanted a legit reason to keep his people away from this possible safety.

"I don't know." Shane admitted, "There's just something off about them. Something familiar."

"We don't have enough food to last us the night." Carol's tiny, sheepish voice propped up into the conversation, "I think this farm house is a good idea."

"It's a bad idea." Lori hissed, "We don't know these people!"

"What's the worst they could do to us?" Glenn shrugged, "There are only four of them."

"You don't know that for sure." Lori spat.

Glenn shrank away from the woman's vicious response, holding his hands up in surrender as he aloud the others to take the reigns.

Carl poked his head out of the RV and Dale soon followed, "Are we talking warm beds, a nice fire and full belies, here, cause if so I think this should be discussed." Dale's collective, calm tone came. "If we spend the rest of out lives in fear of the living than we will become animals."

"I'm not putting my family in harms way for a good night sleep." Lori bit back, "Not that I would be getting any in a camp sight full of hostiles."

Andrea shrugged her shoulders lightly from the back of the crowd, "I don't know. Glenn is a pretty good judge of character, if he trusts them, then I do too."

Glenn shot her a wide smile and jumped a bit when Lori glared at him.

"You say there were four men?" Rick asked. Shane and Glenn both nodded in his direction. "What were they like? Did they come off as sketchy?"

"There were two Irish guys." Glenn said gleefully, "They had these thick accents and they were so hilarious!"

"They are the ones I'm worried about." Shane murmured to Rick. The rest of the group didn't have trouble hearing it, "I feel like there's something off about them."

"What do mean by off?" Rick inquired, shifting his weight on his feet and running a hand over his sweaty brow. It was hot out. Too hot.

"I can't quite place a finger on it."

"What about the other two?" Lori asked stiffly.

"One was this big bearded man." Glenn said, "He's funny too!" he snickered, "He told me this joke-"

"Not appropriate!" Shane interrupted.

Glenn stepped down once more.

"The last man was an older guy. Late forties, maybe." Shane continued, "He gave off the air of a cop. Or a detective, I couldn't tell."

"Does he seem respectable?"

Shane evaluated Rick's question, swirling it in his mouth a bit before spitting out an answer, "Yeah."

"And he's hanging around theses other three?" Andrea shot in. Shane nodded and she continued, "Then they can't be too bad, now can they."

Carl stepped over to his father's side, "Can we go? Please? I want to hear funny jokes, too."

The RV squeaked softly as Daryl stepped out of its body. He eyed each person before him slowly, calculative. His eyes lingered on Rick.

"What do you think, Daryl?"

"'Bout wha?" Daryl kneaded his bottom lip between his teeth, but that didn't restrain any of his sweet, silky southern accent.

"Shane and Glenn found a farm, but there is a couple of men there. They seem respectable." Rick itched the back of his neck, "We could stay a couple nights. Maybe get some food. Go hunting?"

Daryl drew out his response time as long as possible before licking his lips with a wet, quick tongue and shrugging, "Worth a shot."

So they went.

When they got there, their crowd stuck together. Like animals being caged in. They huddled around each other, without anything to hide behind but each other if things went south.

Big, bearded man seemed nice. He was the first to greet them. He smiled at them. A large, lop sided smile that made him look even more like a dread lock infested puppy. He said his hellos and shook hands with Rick and rubbed his nose nervously with the back of his wrist.

His eyes stopped on Daryl and they stayed there.

Another man approached. He wore nice, abnormally clean clothing and had sharp, recognizable features. He gave a toothy smile. One that could be either taken as malicious or friendly. Rick chose the latter.

His eyes stopped on Daryl, as well.

And then, Daryl walked out of the farm house. Only it wasn't Daryl. The man was younger and thinner and less rugged. He seemed more energetic and more of a smart ass than Daryl.

And the fourth and final man walked out, right at Daryl's Doppelganger's feet. The air went stale as soon as his gaze roamed over the crowd because his eyes, too, stopped on Daryl. There was a pause so long that it was palpable.

And then Daryl had crashed past Shane and past Rick and shoved the big, bearded man to the side, followed by the clean one and his look-a-like just stepped out of the way with this pure look of disbelief and something more hopeful.

Daryl crashed into the final man.

The final man didn't move.

Another long moment passed and, for awhile, Rick could only figure out that he was missing something. Some important part of this puzzle that would have helped him understand.

And then, the final man reacted.

Rick felt the others in his makeshift family tense and reach for their guns loyally. If anything were to happen to their friend the group would certainly be there.

The final man's hands wrapped around Daryl. At first the embrace was light. As if asking him if he really was. And he was. So the embrace got tighter. More desperate.

"Murph!" the final man called, "Look, Murph! Look who it is!" His voice was rough and shaky and it didn't sound right. Too high pitched. Tears of something, probably joy, prickled in his eyes.

Daryl's look-a-like only gapped and let his eyes shoot open wide in an amount of emotion Daryl never would have let be exposed on his face. Ever.

"Rocco?" the fourth man questioned, as if he needed to be told that what he was seeing, what he was feeling was real, and the big, bearded man only shrugged heavily as if lost himself.

"Jesus." came the clean man's grainy, easy voice.

"Do ye see him, Smecker?" the fourth man's accent was certainly Irish. He must have been one of the two Glenn mentioned earlier. "Is he really here?"

"He's there, Connor." Smecker nodded as he carded a hand through his graying hair and itched at his chin like he was craving a cigarette. Cigarettes were hard to come by now a days.

Without further ado, Connor finally got up the nerve to check for himself and he reached down and he ever so gently set his roughed up hands on Daryl's hidden face. The redneck ever so reluctantly pulled himself off of Connor's familiar chest. Away from his smell.

"Daryl." Connor said. There was no real reason to say his name, they were looking right at each other. Maybe Connor just liked the taste it left in his mouth. "I told ye A' would find ye."

"Technically, I found ya." Daryl retorted hoarsely.

They kissed.

It had shocked the pants off Rick and everyone behind him, but the sincerity and the passion they could sense between them was so obvious.

They had all just assumed that Daryl had always been alone. Looking at the love Daryl had written all over his face and the love written all over Connor's, Rick wasn't sure why. No one had questioned it, no one thought otherwise and no one would have guessed that what was happening before them was really real, but in that moment, watching Daryl watch Connor, Rick was so confused at why the idea had never crossed his mind before.


End file.
